


The Light Of My Ancestors.

by ABZB13



Category: Jewish Scripture & Legend, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jewish, Battle-Tallit, Chanukah, Gen, Hanuka, Hanukka, Jedi, Jedi Rabbi, Jewish Character, Jewish Holidays, Jewish Identity, Jewish Jedi, Jews In Space, Magenor, One Shot, Rabbi Jedi, chanuka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 19:18:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABZB13/pseuds/ABZB13
Summary: When the young governor of Yavneh II chose to support the Rebellion, he did so remembering what past Chancellors of former Republics had done to his people...Now, that which he long dreaded has come to pass...[One shot, might be developed further]





	The Light Of My Ancestors.

I'm standing in front of one of my bookshelves.

The hidden compartments are open, my precious seforim, long-banned by the Empire, are half-packed into my crate.

A selection of the very best kosher wines of Yavneh II lines the bottom shelf. My family will have enough to last the shabbosim and yomim tovim of the looming war.

It's all my fault.

*I* pushed not just my world, my people, to support the rebellion. To stand against this new mamlacha ra'ah, before it turns to us to destroy us. Again.

And now they have come for us.

We were already beginning to evacuate when they came. I briefly consider fleeing, but I am the leader. I will remain with my people and stand with them.

With a precise and frantic terror, I reverse my packing, desperately replacing the forbidden things into their hiding places.

I will not be finished in time.

It wouldn't be enough, anyway.

In the distance, I hear the THUD of the AT-AT walkers.

And the screams.

My gaze falls on the my grandfather's Magenor, in its place of honor amongst my books. He had fallen with the Jedi.

I've never been much of a warrior.

I recall the students of Rabbi Akiva; I think back to those most ancient of days, when our people were young, before even the Promise of Avraham was fulfilled...

The Scholars who took up arms so that they might one day reside amongst their books once again. The Warrior-Scholars.

I make my choice.

I wrap myself in his battle-tallit. Rather than the white, blue, and black stripes, it is a deep and baleful purple - it is dyed with a mixture of t'cheilet and Norris root. The atarah, formed of many squares of songsteel, extends in strips down its length, turning a mere cloak into a flexible armor. I draw the veil of transparisteel chain-links down over my face.

I wrap Shmuel the Yotzer-Chalonot's war-teffilin, the one glowing life-green around my left arm.

"...l'haniach teffilin", I whisper.

The one glowing sky-blue, I place upon my head.

"From Your wisdom, Most High, save me and my people... and bind us to you forever..."

I take a deep breath.

I take up my grandfather's Magenor, and synch it with my Tefillin, feeling them out through the Force.

Four to the right, four to the left, to defend. One forward to attack.

With a snap-hiss, the purple-blue lights, the color of the t'cheilet-crystal.

The light of my ancestors. The Shield of Avraham. The many-edged Sword.

I step out of my dwelling. I see eleven of my Sanhedrin (for many of us live here, in our capital, a corner of my mind note). They have made the same choice as I.

I call out to them.

"I need to take the Oath. Will you stand as my witnesses?"

"Stand as ours", "Stand as mine".

We form a circle, and the eldest of us, Rabbi Holochkochv, who fought alongside my grandfather and brought back that which I now bear, leads us in the sacred words.

There are no gods, there is only YHWH.  
There is to be no ignorance, I seek only knowledge.  
Through knowledge, I gain strength.  
With strength, I build my soul.  
In my soul, I attain peace.  
In peace, the great freedom sounds from every star.  
The Force of ELOHIM shall free us.

Our shaky voices join and rise, together gaining strength and certainty.

I recall the words of my grandfather, passed down to me on his Holocron:

"In the minyan, is our greatest strength. As long"

I activate the planetary-coms system, entering my override-code, and proclaim that most ancient call to arms:

"Kol l'hashem eylai!"

And the final proclomation, for all who have fallen, and those who will yet today fall.  
"Shma Yisrael, YHWH Eloheynu, YHWH Echad."


End file.
